


first meeting

by cupofgenmaicha (orphan_account)



Series: turn out the lights [1]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: M/M, escort service AU, everything goes to shit for kyun, paying for companionship and sex, then he meets hyunwoo, use of derogatory language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26035966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cupofgenmaicha
Summary: Dignified and obscenely wealthy, Mr. Lee represents a typical client. Most Seoulites see men like him exalted on television and spotlighted in magazines, and they envy their lives.But when Changkyun meets with these men, he has an instinctive, visceral urge to sniff out weakness. He wants to destroy them.
Relationships: Im Changkyun | I.M/Son Hyunwoo | Shownu
Series: turn out the lights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889887
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic we're going all the way back to the beginning to the first time Changkyun and Hyunwoo meet. Please read [habit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22156567) before reading this. It was written as an intro to the "turn out the lights" series even though it takes place chronologically much later.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Changkyun comments as he slices off a piece of steak. The other restaurant patrons are speaking softly enough that he can hear muted piano chords floating in from the main dining room. The music is not unwelcome tonight, especially since Changkyun’s client has been unusually fidgety, his restless fingers alternating between drumming on the table and twisting the platinum wedding ring on his finger. It makes Changkyun nervous.

He pops another sliver of filet mignon into his mouth and chews slowly, marveling at his client’s charcoal Armani suit, then his eyes sweep up the man’s arm to the splash of grey at his temple. Dignified and obscenely wealthy, Mr. Lee represents a typical client; most men are in their 40s or 50s, chaebols or politicians, and married. The men hire escorts for their ease—no meetings between the families, no purported heterosexuality, no fuss. Hours and prices are negotiated beforehand; a direct deposit buys clients 6 to 12 hours of fantasy and ironclad client confidentiality clauses ensure that there is no lingering messiness.

Most Seoulites see men like Mr. Lee exalted on television and spotlighted in magazines, and they envy their lives. They want penthouses and imported luxury cars. They want success and undue fame. They want an ease in their lives that only money can buy.

But when Changkyun meets with these men, he has an instinctive, visceral urge to sniff out weakness. He wants to destroy them.

“Something on your mind, babe?” Changkyun tilts his head playfully and watches as Mr. Lee’s neck flushes at the pet name.

The stretch of silence is broken by the man’s inhale, then slow measured exhale as he fixes calculating eyes on Changkyun. “I saw something interesting the other night—it was you and the CEO of Kim Industries dining together at RAW in Apgujeong.”

Changkyun bites back a groan—so this is what Mr. Lee has been working up to.

“I vaguely remember that,” he answers and Mr. Lee’s lips pull up into a smirk.

“You know that he’s been stealing contracts from me,” he growls. “So, why would you date him too?”

Changkyun idly plays with the Rolex around his wrist—a gift that he hasn’t been able to bring himself to sell yet—and tries to not roll his eyes. He needs to tread lightly if he wants to keep Mr. Lee wrapped around his little finger. 

After a moment of consideration, he lays down his knife and fork and clucks his tongue in soft rebuttal.

“Is that what you’ve been wondering about all day, CEO Lee? Outmaneuvering the competition?” he mocks with a playful arch of his brow.

It’s a dangerous game to play, but not uncommon for a client and escort. It’s almost inevitable, Changkyun thinks as he fingers the watch again, that these men will eventually feel dissatisfied with merely renting an escort for the night. They want to own him too.

“Cute,” Mr. Lee snorts sarcastically and Changkyun feels a little pool of sweat form between his shoulder blades. “Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we? I don’t want you fucking other men. I want you to be available whenever I call. No more setting up meetings through Dior—and no more prick teasing.”

Changkyun smiles wolfishly and drops the cute act. “No. That’s not possible.”

Mr. Lee’s mouth sets into a hard line and his eyes are razor sharp. “Is it more money you want? I have more money than CEO Kim and his company combined,” he scoffs. “It can’t be that hard to buy a gold-digging slut like you.”

“You—” Changkyun chokes out and he bites his tongue. Ice cold rage crystallizes up his spine and he digs his nails into his palm to keep from ripping the sneer off Mr. Lee’s face. The last thing he needs is an assault charge and jail time. “We both know that arranging everything through Madam protects your reputation,” he says in a measured voice. “You don’t want anything leaked to the press about how you go home to your wife after taking out a little prick tease like me, hmm?”

“Are you threatening me?” Mr. Lee slams his palm on the table, causing more than a few other patrons to glance over at them. The CEO leans back and yanks at the knot of his tie, his face splotched red.

“No. Stating facts,” Changkyun answers easily, hoping to appeal to Mr. Lee’s sense of self-preservation. “Besides, you know that you can’t get anyone better than me.”

“Anyone else would be grateful just to be in my presence," the CEO spits out. "I could step on them and they would thank me.” Mr. Lee stands and throws several hundred thousand won bills down onto the table. “I’m sure you can get yourself back home.”

Changkyun refuses to watch him leave but as the adrenaline starts to leak out of his body, he knows that he’s lost. He holds it in as he walks to the underground station, closing his eyes as he squeezes between other bodies on the crowded subway car. He holds it in as he wipes a dusting of snow off his coat and climbs up four flights of stairs to his and Kihyun’s tiny shared apartment, located on a nondescript side street, somewhere in Seoul. 

But once the door closes it all boils out of him in a snarled yowl.

“Hard night?” Kihyun calls from the kitchen and the singsong voice drains the rest of it out of him.

Suddenly exhausted, Changkyun groans as he sags against the countertop, pressing his forehead to the cool tile. Kihyun sidesteps him and continues to hum quietly as he moves around the kitchen, cooking up a simple late night dinner for the two of them to share.

“Cold outside?”

Changkyun shrugs; he hadn't really noticed. “Winter,” he answers and Kihyun nods, tossing him a beer.

Changkyun cracks open the beer and takes a long swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Why are men such assholes?”

Kihyun laughs as he cracks open his own beer. “They’re not all assholes. Only the rich ones.”

They sit shoulder to shoulder on the floor and set their bowls of noodles down on the low table. Kihyun searches through Netflix until he picks out a drama they’ve already watched and they both eat silently, each lost in his own thoughts.

“I fucked up again, hyung,” Changkyun sighs after retelling the events of the night.

"Nah. You did the right thing," Kihyun reassures with a wry smile, "but we will have to eat ramyeon for a while until Madam assigns you someone new.”

Changkyun groans, but instead of teasing him, Kihyun looks thoughtful. “I don’t know what it is about you, but clients always seem to fall for you. Every single time,”—Kihyun turns to look at him—“and the severance pay you get is no joke. My customers are fond of me, but even I have never been able to rake in the kind of cash you do.”

Kihyun’s poorly-concealed fondness makes Changkyun flush hot. “I’m only doing what you taught me,” he mumbles.

“No, there’s more to it than that,” Kihyun muses as he stares out the apartment’s only window; for being such a cheap, crappy apartment, they actually have a decent partial view of the skyline. The television drones in the background as Changkyun watches Kihyun chew his thumbnail with faraway eyes. “I think you may be our ticket out of this shithole, Kyun.”

They drink until dawn nearly breaks and lay out their futons just as grey light begins to filter into the room. Changkyun burrows under the blankets, his body buzzing from the alcohol, but his head is sharp and clear. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, his eyes following the spiderweb of cracks as Kihyun snores lightly next to him—and he thinks. 

By the time his phone pings with a final account transfer from Mr. Lee, he has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!


	2. Chapter 2

“Thought this was your night off,” Kihyun comments as they lock up their apartment and start walking to the subway station. The last rays of sunlight burn off and the sky streaks red as the sun drops below the horizon; Changkyun always takes a moment to look up, to soak in the fleeting beauty. 

They hurry to the subway and it’s already uncomfortably cold in the waning sunlight—too cold to walk around without a coat. Changkyun rubs his numb hands together and shrugs. “Dior told me to wear a suit and to be ready by 8 pm. I guess there’s a new client and he needed an escort on short notice.”

“New night, new man,” Kihyun chuckles. “Now I’m curious.”

They descend underground to the subway station and Changkyun’s stomach immediately tenses. It always throws him off balance, when unease prickles up his neck and the memories that sit heavy and stagnant on his chest begin to emerge one by one. Emptiness. Desperation. Hunger. Murky darkness dappled by artificial light. Changkyun never dreamt that he would be an escort. He didn’t dream about much of anything other than escaping the mold and the dank of the converted 1970s bunker, the only place he and his mother were allowed to rent.

“Kyun,” Kihyun murmurs next to him. The sea of bodies sway as the train slows. “It’s our stop.”

Changkyun blinks and ambient sound whooshes into his ears, the flood of stimuli pushing away the unwanted memories. For now.

There are a few districts known for clubbing in Seoul, but none of them compare to Gangnam. Glass high rises pierce the clouds hanging over the city, leaving the boulevard in shadow for large swaths of the day. Cars honk with the same frenzied energy that possesses residents of this corner of Seoul. Demanding. Moneyed. Confident.

 _“Stop fidgeting,”_ Kihyun hissed the first time they walked through Gangnam together. _“You’ll get eaten alive.”_

Now Changkyun walks under a canopy of trees with blossoms threatening to burst despite the late winter chill, with a practiced ease to his gait that allows him to blend into the background. Hover on the periphery, invisible like a ghost.

Horizon, a lounge-nightclub hybrid near Gangnam Station, stands in stark contrast to its subdued marble neighbors. Co-owned by Dior and a real-estate magnate, Kim Seokjin, Horizon serves as the escort service’s headquarters. Horizon’s facade is dark and sleek; its metal clad doors imposing. In just a few hours there will be a lottery selling off the club’s VIP booths and tables to spoiled socialites looking for their next escape; pre-approved clients on Dior’s guest list will be ushered to their own reserved tables.

Changkyun and Kihyun punch in the code to enter the quiet building. They walk through the maze of tables in the darkened lounge; above them the club is eerily silent, in sharp contrast to how it will be at opening. Every surface inside the lounge is dark wood and the seats are leather, plush for the clientele they cater to. Some escorts and clients prefer to stay at the lounge or walk upstairs to party in the nightclub’s EDM or hip hop rooms, but most venture outside at some point.

The two escorts are barely through the lounge’s door before Dior bounds over and throws her arms around them. “How are my two favorite men doing tonight?” the madam asks as she kisses them both on the cheek, leaving a smear of red lipstick. With long black hair, a husky laugh and glittering eyes, Dior is beautiful and startlingly unmarked by the industry. After hearing horror stories from some of the more experienced escorts, Changkyun feels lucky to work for her. Of course she skims a hefty commission off all her employees’ fees, but she has a big heart and she protects them, which is more than can be said for the seedier alternatives. 

Madam is particularly bubbly tonight as she chats away about the deluge of new clients—one of her competitors headquartered in Club Insomnia refused to pay off the police. “Now that they’re shut down, we have dozens of new clients!” Dior chirps.

New men equals a free flow of cash, and more money is always a good thing.

“Kihyun, you’re all set with Assemblyman Koh. He’s paid for 6 hours and he’s sending a car to pick you up. You two will meet in the Presidential Suite at the Shilla Hotel,” Dior pauses and frowns, a wrinkle of concern forming between her brows. She tends to worry about her employees if they leave Horizon, even if that’s all part of the business. “Are you okay with that?”

Kihyun waves off her concern. “Don’t worry about the Assemblyman. I can handle him.”

“Okay,” Dior concedes brightly, her mask of worry evaporating. She turns to Changkyun, “And you—”

“Ah, I’m sorry about Mr. Lee,” Changkyun interjects sheepishly, hoping to stave off the impending storm. Dior does _not_ like to lose clients.

“Who needs him!” Dior scoffs, waving off his apology with a perfectly manicured hand. “After I heard what happened with CEO Lee, I _knew_ that you would need another date—someone handsome. Someone young. Someone rich,” she says with a toothy grin.

“Who is it?” Kihyun asks, bouncing on his toes eagerly.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your date tonight?” Changkyun teases and is rewarded with a glower. “I thought we had a client confidentiality clause.”

“You are going on a date with—” Dior pauses for dramatic effect, “— Son Hyunwoo of Son Industries!”

 _Oh_. Changkyun’s eyebrows rise. Everyone in Seoul knows of Son Hyunwoo, the only son in line to inherit not only the chaebol but a hefty family fortune. Changkyun has seen his face on the cover of business magazines as well as splashed across gossip columns. One of the few truly hardworking chaebols under the age of 30, Hyunwoo fully embraces his wealth and status. Seoul’s socialite class was scandalized when he began to bring men to events and introduced them as his dates; the media couldn’t get enough of him. Soon after, he came out with a casual ease that Changkyun couldn’t help but admire. Money certainly helped smooth out any public perception wrinkles, but Hyunwoo also seems to own himself with an unshakeable confidence that is difficult to question.

“What level did he pay for?” Changkyun asks, not expecting much more than a three-hour “get to know you” date.

“Platinum.”

 _12 hours_. Changkyun whistles low, surprised. Rolling high for a first date. Not good news for his plan though—when someone wants the evening to end with a quick fuck, the last thing they’re thinking about is attachment.

“I met him earlier today to fill out his profile and I knew you two would be perfect for each other,” Dior continues exuberantly, clearly quite pleased with herself. By now there is a small group of escorts pretending to casually lounge in the hallway as they listen to the madam speak.

“Why would Hyunwoo-ssi choose _him_ for a date?” one of them stage whispers, leading to an eruption of poorly-concealed snickering.

Changkyun ignores the other escorts’ petty jealousy and takes the iPad from the madam. He scrolls through Hyunwoo’s client profile; there’s a reference picture to help him identify Hyunwoo in the lounge, but the rest of the profile is unusually sparse. “Favorite foods: everything. Favorite activities: everything”—Changkyun mumbles under his breath—“favorite sex positions: anything is fine.” Changkyun looks up from the iPad. “Anything. Is. Fine.” 

“Guess you’ll have to figure him out for yourself.” Dior shrugs. “Tonight is the Son Industries’ Founder’s Day gala and Mr. Son is expected to bring someone attractive and _quiet_ to be photographed with—”

Changkyun groans, already envisioning how this date will go: Mr. Son will abandon him to the wolves in a posh ballroom filled to the brim with rich, bland people. Plush carpet and overflowing champagne flutes. Classical piano music and not nearly enough food. Hyunwoo will be bored within an hour and begin to coax and prod Changkyun for sex—and will take his denial as a challenge. It’s not that Changkyun doesn’t like sex, but men like Hyunwoo often have a God complex that proves to be exhausting.

“Sounds fun,” he huffs sarcastically.

“You should be grateful,” Dior snaps, shocking all the escorts into silence. “A date with someone in Mr. Son’s position is coveted. You’re lucky that you’re good at what you do or you would have already been kicked out after the stunt you pulled with Mr. Lee.” 

A warning flashes over the madam’s face then she smiles again like sunlight peeking out after a rainstorm. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to get ready.”

Dior turns on her heel, scattering the escorts, and sashays down the hall, her high heels clicking on the tile with each stride. Once she is out of sight, Kihyun pulls Changkyun into one of the private dressing rooms located in the very back of the lounge—a luxury only afforded to the most senior escorts.

“This is huge, Changkyun,” Kihyun whispers excitedly. “Son Hyunwoo is the kind of client we all dream of fucking.”

“Dating, hyung—you mean _dating_ ,” Changkyun teases even though he knows that everything Kihyun is saying is true. Son Hyunwoo isn’t just another rich guy. He is _the_ rich guy. Seoul’s Most Eligible Bachelor himself. “I’ve been in the business for over a year now. I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t just be fine, Kyun,” Kihyun chuckles as he packs a bag for the hotel—throwing in condoms, lube and some other items Changkyun chooses to ignore. “You could be the one that keeps him coming back.”

“Uhh, yeah, that’s the plan.”

 _Brat_ , Kihyun snorts affectionately. “You haven’t heard, have you?” At Changkyun’s silence, he continues, “He’s only photographed with a date once before he moves on to someone else.”

Well, that certainly fucks up Changkyun’s plan. He looks down at the Rolex glinting around his wrist; he hates to keep souvenirs from ex-clients, but the watch has come to symbolize a form of insurance. If tonight’s date with Hyunwoo doesn’t go well, he could always sell it to pay off their debts to Dior—and keep the extra won to throw into the little grey lockbox hidden in the back of the closet. _Security_ , Kihyun calls it, but that’s only because they’re both afraid to put a real, tangible label on it: a dream of a better future.

“You haven’t seen my charm on full display,” Changkyun bites his lip and winks, “because once I turn it on, everyone within 50 meters instantly falls for me.”

Kihyun coughs and studies Changkyun for a moment, clearly bemused. “Okay. Mr. Charmer. I think it’s time for both of us to get ready.”

Changkyun brushes his teeth and dabs on cologne, listening to the soft jazz music change over to EDM as the lounge officially opens for the evening.

“I’m gonna head out now.”

Changkyun glances up to catch a glimpse of Kihyun standing in the doorway. “Damn, hyung. You look hot.”

Kihyun runs fingers through his hair and smirks, obviously pleased. “You look pretty damn good yourself.”

Changkyun grabs a condom and packet of lube, and slips them into his pocket. Checking the time on his phone, he follows Kihyun through the labyrinth of hallways to the main lounge. Hopefully he’ll be able to spot Hyunwoo and size him up before it’s time to meet.

“Go easy on the Assemblyman!” Changkyun calls out, blowing a kiss when Kihyun turns around and flips him off. He watches his friend navigate through the tables with ease, attracting more than a few appreciative glances from men and women alike.

Okay. Now it’s time to find Hyunwoo. Luckily, the lounge is only half full this early in the evening, and his eyes jump from face to face, searching for his target.

“Im Changkyun?” The voice is so close and unexpected that Changkyun nearly jumps. He turns around and almost bumps into a man’s chest; they’re standing so close to each other that Changkyun can smell his expensive aftershave. He takes a step back.

“I’m Son Hyunwoo.” When Changkyun doesn’t respond, the man continues with a question in his voice. “I believe we have a date tonight.”

Changkyun recognizes him immediately, but he takes his time letting his gaze wander over Hyunwoo’s fitted suit, his wide shoulders and narrow waist. He’s tall and has a healthy glow to his skin, like he spends his days off soaking in the sun. But it’s Hyunwoo’s eyes that really catch his attention—they are dark and intelligent. Inscrutable. 

Changkyun tilts his head toward one of the tables. “You’re supposed to pour yourself a drink and wait.”

“Okay,” Hyunwoo exhales softly, then walks over to one of the reserved tables. There are bottles of alcohol on a tray near his elbow—included in the price that he’s already paid—but Hyunwoo ignores them in favor of his phone. 

All escorts have their own strategy for the first date—and Changkyun’s approach is to scan a client and within a few moments know exactly which persona he should wear for the evening. 

_Cute Changkyun_ , _College Student Changkyun_ , _Furry Changkyun_ , he flips through his various personas. Hyunwoo seems like a typical chaebol—high-powered, overworked, pampered—the classic client in need of _BDSM Changkyun_. _Perfect_ , he thinks with a pleased grin. Changkyun is almost never wrong.

“Mr. Son?” he purrs, flashing his most charming smile. “I’m Im Changkyun. Ready for our date?”

Hyunwoo pockets his phone and nods, then silently leads the way out of the lounge. They emerge onto the street. The sky is dark now and the winter air hits Changkyun’s exposed skin. He immediately regrets leaving behind his wool overcoat.

Moments later a sleek black sedan stops at the curb and a middle-aged man opens the door for them with a respectful bow. The interior is as luxurious as the outside, with black leather seats and a heater cranked to full blast. 

What would BDSM Changkyun say to break the ice? He ponders over it as he caresses the soft leather. “These leather seats feel nice—you seem to like _leather_.”

“They came standard with the car,” Hyunwoo replies without interest as he types out a message on his phone. 

Okay. That didn’t work. Changkyun frowns and he can’t help but glare at Hyunwoo’s impassive face, his eyes still glued to his phone. 

“There’s water in the compartment next to your seat.”

Changkyun blinks and realizes that Hyunwoo is talking to him all while frowning at some charts he’s opened on his iPad. He presses the button next to his seat and inside the panel there are bottles of sparkling water. Expected, but still appreciated.

Hyunwoo continues to work in silence, opting to only say a few words here and there to offer something to Changkyun to make him comfortable. It’s surprising and honestly, bewildering. Usually clients are hell bent on impressing him—showing off their wealth, showing him everything that he’s missing out on when they’re not together. 

Hyunwoo doesn’t seem interested in monologuing his success or even in discussing the terms of their contractual relationship; Changkyun knows that it’s too early to panic, but it is a little worrisome that Hyunwoo doesn’t seem altogether interested in _him_. 

After a few more attempts at small talk, a couple blank stares and another really embarrassing attempt to hook Hyunwoo’s interest—Changkyun is dangerously close to pouting. Looking around the car provides no additional clues. The chaebol doesn’t seem to have any ticks. No obvious vices. His disinterest in Changkyun is glaringly obvious; even if he were to strip down and give Hyunwoo a lap dance, he would probably only receive a cordial, slightly confused _thank you_ in response.

Fuck it. Changkyun sheds his stupid BDSM persona; he is going to be himself tonight, make the most of the evening and find another target for his plan. There are plenty more rich men out there.

“Which event are we attending tonight?” Changkyun asks to make conversation.

“The Founder’s Day Gala. It’s an event that we host every year,” Hyunwoo murmurs without looking up from his phone.

“You don’t sound like you want to go.”

“I don’t,” he agrees, “but I’m expected to be there.”

Changkyun hums and settles back into his seat. “That’s why I’m here, right? To make the evening more bearable.”

Hyunwoo finally looks up from his phone and something akin to pleasant surprise passes over his face. Then his phone begins to buzz and the moment is gone. “Hello Father,” he answers. His tone is amiable and almost gentle—so unlike how Changkyun is used to hearing chaebols speak. 

Hyunwoo is quiet as he listens to his father, his face contemplative and fond.

“There is no reason to make the announcement tonight,” Hyunwoo advises, shifting in his seat to look out the window. Seoul traffic is hectic as everyone hurries from work to social gatherings and events; the car slows as it comes to another intersection. 

Changkyun knows that he shouldn’t be listening to Hyunwoo’s conversation, but he immediately perks up. What announcement is he talking about? He discreetly pulls out his phone and types “Son Industries” into Naver search. Only boring business articles pop up. Interesting. Whatever they’re talking about is probably being shared in confidence. 

“If you would prefer to wait until after the stakeholder’s meeting, then you should do that.” More silence, then, “Of course you have my support. I’ll step in as host tonight. You should focus on ramping up stakeholder support for the next vote.” After murmuring a goodbye, Hyunwoo hangs up and seems to suppress a sigh.

“Tonight sounds like it’s more important than just an annual gala,” Changkyun blurts out, wincing when he realizes how nosy that sounded.

Hyunwoo doesn’t seem to mind. “My father hates these events and somehow always persuades me to host them for him.”

Changkyun bites back a smile. Hyunwoo seems to admire his dad and CEO Son probably doesn’t have to try too hard to convince his son to agree to anything.

“Ah—I noticed that you’re not wearing a tie,” Hyunwoo comments and Changkyun realizes that for the first time all evening, the chaebol is looking directly at him. Hyunwoo pulls a leather bag out from another compartment; inside there are a dozen ties of differing colors and styles. “You can have one of mine for the evening.”

Changkyun has always dressed one step below his clients—he has learned that this is somehow endlessly endearing to rich men. Kihyun believes that this is the reason why Changkyun always loses clients to domesticity—they want to take care of him, dress him up and give him gifts. He’s a little surprised that Hyunwoo falls into that category.

Changkyun fingers the ties; they’re soft and silky, and probably cost the same as his monthly rent. He chooses a black and silver one and knots it around his neck.

“Why do you keep ties in your car?” For a split second he considers resurrecting the BDSM persona—

“Convenience. Sometimes I sleep at the office and need to change out my shirt and tie for the next day.”

—never mind. 

The rest of the car ride passes quickly and they pull up to Silver & Teak—one of the many luxury hotels owned by Son Industries. The hotel is massive and imposing; if Changkyun attempted to look up, he doubts that he would be able to see the famed rooftop bar and its 360 degree unobstructed view of the city. 

Employees are lined up outside and they bow deeply as Hyunwoo emerges from the car. A smartly dressed assistant escorts them to a photography wall where the usual mob of press call out for their attention, fighting to capture pictures of the chaebol with the evening’s date.

“Excuse my touch,” Hyunwoo mutters right before placing a stiff arm around Changkyun’s waist. 

Changkyun’s lips curl into a smile as they pose for pictures. “I’ve been to an event here before,” he whispers as they are shuffled to another place on the wall. The backdrop is quickly changed by harried event organizers.

Hyunwoo turns to look at him and Changkyun notices the way stray camera lights reflect off his skin.

“The other annual gala—the charity one.”

“Ah. I haven’t been able to attend that one yet. Always away on business.”

All the money raised is funneled to a charitable foundation overseen by CEO Son’s brother. Changkyun isn’t sure about the foundation‘s mission statement or if it is even a legitimate charitable organization. Thinking back to some of the ostentatious sculptures and downright questionable artwork that was snatched up for hundreds of millions of won at the charity auction, Changkyun muses, “Rich people certainly like to throw their wealth around.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

They enter the building and it’s already overflowing with executives, stakeholders and other elites dressed in wool suits or dripping in diamonds and silk. Changkyun fights the immediate urge to fidget. The room is warm and too loud. Everyone around him is talking about business or politics or investments. The same boring stuff regurgitated. It’s taken a lot of practice to project an air of ease and confidence, like he belongs in this room with these people who live in a world so foreign to his own. 

But he’s learned—he’s learned when to talk sweetly and when not to; he’s learned how to manipulate and charm his way into squeezing out another date. Another gift. A few thousand more won. He’s learned when his company is wanted and when it’s not. 

Hyunwoo throws him a curveball when he stands next to Changkyun and places a hand on his lower back, gently leading him from one executive to another. Assemblymen, the Chairwoman, fellow chaebols—he introduces Changkyun to them all, including him in conversation. 

“You should use Ahn & Lee as the builder for the Jongno-gu urban revitalization project.”

Changkyun blinks his eyes up from the drink in his hand to study the man in front of him. Ahn & Lee? Alarm bells go off in his head. He knows that he’s heard the name before. 

The man—Mr. Ahn—continues to boast loudly about how his son’s company wins bids to work on government projects. “They’re a multi-billion won private developer,” he says smugly.

Changkyun glances up at Hyunwoo who is characteristically quiet as he listens to Mr. Ahn’s bid. “Ahn & Lee can submit a formal bid to Son Industries’ corporate office. The bidding opens next month,” Hyunwoo answers cordially.

Mr. Ahn leans in. “We both know that there doesn’t need to be a formal bid. That’s only to look fair on paper. Let’s shake on it now and I’ll have my son reach out to you in the next day or two.”

Hyunwoo looks down at Mr. Ahn’s outstretched hand and bows his head slightly. “I have to follow protocol, sir. But I would be happy to look over Ahn & Lee’s proposal when the time comes. Please excuse us.”

Changkyun feels a strange glee in watching Mr. Ahn glare down crossly at his extended hand as they walk away from him. Then it strikes him why the name of the builder has been bothering him. “You shouldn’t take the bid.”

“Why not?”

“I used to live in a neighborhood that was being redeveloped by the company. They had won a bid to demolish and rebuild concrete apartment buildings—and they did demolish them. Elderly people and working class families were forced out, then they turned around and built luxury high-rise apartments instead.” Changkyun takes a sip of wine. “The thing is that the apartments were shoddy. The building collapsed the week before the first tenants were scheduled to move in.”

Hyunwoo’s eyes open wide. “I don’t remember hearing anything like that.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Changkyun says bitterly. “Ahn & Lee must have connections with the police commissioner because no charges were ever filed against them. The news stations didn’t care enough about that part of the city to investigate anyway.”

“You just saved me from making a really bad decision,” Hyunwoo says and there is a glimmer of admiration in his eyes that makes Changkyun look away. “What’s your background, exactly?”

“I didn’t go to university or study this,” he shrugs. “I’ve just lived in the city my whole life.”

But Hyunwoo doesn’t seem to care about formal training or education. What about this company, or that one? What other urban projects does he know about? How about using sustainable materials in new buildings versus maintaining old ones? As Hyunwoo volleys out questions, interest sparks in his eyes. Changkyun’s heart beats erratically in his chest when he realizes that he’s cracked the code—and now he has Hyunwoo’s full attention. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been talking, just the two of them secluded to one corner of the room, when a new voice interrupts them. 

“It’s time to make a speech, Mr. Son,” the older woman says as she looks between the two of them with a small smile. 

“Thank you, Secretary Moon.” Hyunwoo turns his attention back to Changkyun. “You can help yourself to hors d’oeuvres. This shouldn’t take long.”

Hyunwoo looks every bit like an executive as he stands on stage and begins to speak into the microphone, welcoming all the guests. His voice is low and smooth, and his eyes glitter with a confidence that is undeniably sexy. Near him stands an older man with wise eyes and a proud smile; he murmurs quietly to Hyunwoo after the chaebol finishes his speech.

Changkyun watches the two men walk off the stage and mix back into the crowd, the older man—who must be CEO Son—introducing his son to important-looking attendees. A warning prickles the back of his neck and he wrenches his eyes from the men to look around the room. Then his stomach drops.

He’s staring straight into CEO Lee’s narrowed eyes—and the man’s face is mottled with unrestrained rage. Mr. Lee whispers something to the woman standing next to him, dismissing her before pushing his way through the room.

Changkyun is frozen in place. Trapped. 

“Are you following me?” CEO Lee hisses, his nostrils already flaring. “Trying to extort even more cash?”

“No. I’m here with someone,” Changkyun replies, trying to keep his voice even.

“No one with any sense would bring a low-class slut like you to this kind of event,” he spits out, the alcohol on his breath sweet and nauseating. Changkyun’s eyes flit around the room, but luckily no one is paying attention to them yet. 

He tries to think back to past dates with Mr. Lee. What does he even know about him? Not much, if he were being honest. “I’m not following you—I didn’t even notice that you were here.”

The CEO grabs Changkyun’s wrist before he can escape and growls, “If you do anything to fuck with me or my image tonight I will destroy you.”

“Is there something wrong?” Hyunwoo’s voice cuts in and Changkyun feels an arm curl protectively around his waist. Mr. Lee scowls at Hyunwoo’s hand resting on Changkyun’s side, then he glares at Changkyun, practically daring him to speak.

But they both know that Mr. Lee can’t admit to knowing Changkyun.

“There was a misunderstanding. Nothing to be concerned with,” the CEO huffs and then skulks off.

Hyunwoo’s eyebrows are knitted as he removes his arm. “Did CEO Lee say anything rude to you? Or harm you in any way?”

“No. I’m fine,” Changkyun waves off his concern. “He’s just someone I know from the past.” 

Hyunwoo looks like he’s going to say something more about it, but ultimately presses his lips together in a thin line. “Okay,” he concedes wearily. “We’ll probably only stay another twenty minutes or so.”

“Son Hyunwoo-ssi! SON HYUNWOO-SSI!” a loud lilting voice floats above the din of the crowd. A young woman waves at the chaebol as she teeters on high heels, her form-fitting black dress hugging every curve as she moves. 

“Shit,” Hyunwoo swears under his breath. Changkyun takes a step back just as the woman engulfs Hyunwoo in a hug.

“Oh, don’t be so stiff,” she laughs as she punches him lightly on the arm. “We almost got married.”

Hyunwoo straightens out his suit and bows his head. Discomfort radiates off his rigid shoulders in waves. “Hello, Sooyoung-ssi. I’m sorry, but we were just about to leave.”

Sooyoung finally seems to notice Changkyun. “And who is this—”

“I’m Im Changkyun—”

“My date.”

She sniffs dismissively, then flashes another ingratiating grin at Hyunwoo. “I haven’t seen you in so long, oppa. How are you?”

“Busy,” Hyunwoo shifts uncomfortably. “I’ve been traveling a lot.”

“You work too hard,” she coos, pushing out her scarlet lower lip into a pout. “You should come over and I’ll cook you a meal.”

Hyunwoo clears his throat and scratches at his neck, the first nervous tick Changkyun has noticed all evening. “How are you and your husband doing? I’m sorry I couldn’t attend the wedding. I was in Japan.”

“He’s gone a lot,” she sighs. “I run the gallery, but I’m alone most evenings. You should come over and keep me company.”

“He’s not interested,” Changkyun cuts in as he slides his arm through Hyunwoo’s. His voice is sharp and he can see Hyunwoo staring at him from the corner of his eye.

Sooyoung pokes Hyunwoo in the chest, demanding his attention. “You know that you owe me a favor for all the shit I’ve been through because of you. The least you can do is come over for a meal.”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Sooyoung-ssi.”

“You don’t remember?” Her face grows dark, but her voice remains soft. Sardonic. Changkyun vaguely remembers seeing a picture of Hyunwoo and Sooyoung last winter, how the marriage was going to connect two of Korea’s most powerful families. Clearly that didn’t happen.

“You broke off the wedding without even thinking about how the negative press would affect my family’s company. Our stocks plummeted because of you.”

Ah, of course it all boils down to money. Somehow stocks are even more valued than pride.

“You know why I broke it off, Sooyoung-ssi. We’ve already handled all this through lawyers.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you told me,” now she’s running narrowed eyes up Changkyun’s body, “but from where I’m standing, you gave up a great business opportunity just to take out a guy like _him_ who is obviously only after your money.”

Changkyun feels absurd laughter bubble out of him. “You may be wealthy, Sooyoung-ssi, but there’s a reason why Hyunwoo is standing here with a guy like me when he seems to have forgotten all about you.”

Hyunwoo is staring at him again, not even bothering to watch Sooyoung as she stalks off to grab a drink from one of the waiters.

“I’m sorry she said that to you,” Hyunwoo says at last. “It was very rude.”

“It’s true though,” Changkyun shrugs. “You did pay me to be here.”

Something passes over Hyunwoo’s face and he frowns. “Doesn’t make it right for her to say that though.”

They begin to leave the ballroom, stopping multiple times to say goodbye to other attendees. Changkyun feels a huge weight lift off his chest when they finally walk outside. The frigid air seems to clear his head. Almost immediately, a car pulls up, but before the driver has the chance to greet them, Hyunwoo opens the door and gestures for Changkyun to slide in first. 

“Would you like to be dropped off at the lounge or at home?” he asks after the car is pulled into traffic. A light drizzle patters rhythmically against the windows, the rain drops refracting the city’s light.

“You can drop me off at the subway. Home is a long way from here.”

“I don’t mind.” Changkyun doesn’t have to look at him to recognize the sincerity in his voice.

“Technically you paid for 6 more hours. Are you sure you want the night to end now?”

“I have to fly out in the morning,” Hyunwoo says almost apologetically.

Changkyun stares out the window and lets silence fill the car. He should be elated; how many times in the past has he yearned for such a short, painless date? Hyunwoo is notorious for tipping generously—exactly the same reason why Changkyun even agreed to the date. Yet, somehow his chest squeezes with disappointment. 

“Please drop me off near Gangnam Station.”

“Okay,” Hyunwoo quietly relents. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“Of course,” Changkyun hums. “What made you decide to hire an escort instead of taking a real date? Are you hiding some dark secret that I should probably know about?”

Hyunwoo cracks a smile—the first genuine one all evening, but it seems wistful. “I don’t have time for a relationship,” he confesses. “I’ve learned the hard way that every single relationship I seem to build slowly dissolves into a business transaction. People I think I could love are photographed and then petty gossip slowly rips them apart. Or they betray me and leak information to the press. I’m sick of it.”

“That’s really shitty, Hyunwoo.”

“I know exactly what kind of relationship I’m entering into with an escort. No feelings. No promises of a life together,” he flashes a small smile. “Although usually by this point in the evening my date gets fidgety and starts pressuring me for more.”

Changkyun thinks back to his earlier plan and internally cringes. “By now most clients are practically begging me to sit in their lap and call them ‘daddy,’ so—” he looks over at Hyunwoo and sees that he’s biting back a grin, “—this has been a nice change of pace.”

The drive is over too soon and the driver pulls over into a temporary loading zone near the subway station. They sit there in silence, both stalling the inevitable.

“Thank you for the ride and uh,” Changkyun shifts on the seat, “you know where to find me if you ever need company again.”

“Right.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Hyunwoo repeats with a nod. 

Neither of them moves.

“Um, do you have a pen?”

Hyunwoo pulls one out from his suit pocket and extends it to him. Changkyun reaches out for the pen and catches Hyunwoo’s hand, turning it over so that he can write on his palm. Just like he would do with his crushes at school. “Here’s my cell number,” he says, ignoring Dior’s voice screaming in his head about the first rule of being an escort. Never grow attached. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Hyunwoo stares down at his palm. “I wouldn’t be calling a grocery store or the crotchety old lady down the street, right?”

“Nope,” Changkyun assures as he finally opens the door. “It’s my number.”

“I feel honored,” Hyunwoo quietly teases, pulling out his wallet to hand him a 50,000 won note. “This should cover the subway.”

Changkyun stuffs the cash into his pocket. “Don’t take public transportation much, do you?”

“Is it obvious?” Hyunwoo laughs and his eyes crinkle, making him look carefree for a moment.

Changkyun closes the door and waves, then heads down to the subway. He sways with the motion of the train, his head full of Hyunwoo. There’s very little chance that they’ll actually go on another date, but he would definitely say yes if given the opportunity.

But as he begins to climb the stairs up to his apartment, the floaty feeling begins to fade. He almost forgot about the shitty apartment and Kihyun and that lockbox that holds the key to an alternative life. Kihyun is shirtless and in the middle of a set of push ups when Changkyun toes off his toes and shuts the door.

“You’re home early.”

“Yeah.” Changkyun doesn’t feel like talking. He flops onto the threadbare couch and groans. “I’m starving. Those events don’t have real food.”

Kihyun hops off the floor and starts chopping up green onion for ramyeon. “So how was it? Is Hyunwoo as dreamy as they say?”

“He’s really quiet. Works a lot. Honestly, he seems like he needs a damn break.”

Kihyun hums. “And I’ll bet you’re willing to give him one.”

Changkyun thinks about how easily he gave out his number and burrows his face into the couch cushion.

“Do you think you’ll hear from him again?” Kihyun asks, placing the pot of boiling noodles onto the low table.

“Maybe.” Changkyun blows on the noodles and slurps them into his mouth. His body begins to feel warm after the walk home. 

“Are you going to go ahead with the plan?”

Changkyun wants to say no. Hyunwoo is a decent man who deserves to fall in love with someone who can wholeheartedly love him in return. But how long will he and Kihyun have to keep clawing their way out of poverty? How many more years can they endure turning the heat off in winter so that they have a chance? 

“How much do we still owe Dior, hyung?”

Kihyun picks at a thread on his pants, refusing to make eye contact.

“How much?” Changkyun presses.

“A lot, Kyun,” Kihyun finally answers. “About 100 million won.”

All the oxygen is knocked out of his lungs. “How,” he stammers, “how is it that much now?”

“Mr. Lee threatened to report all of us to the police. Madam added the bribe amount to your debt.”

Changkyun fluctuates between wanting to scream and wanting to disappear. 

“It will be okay, Kyun,” Kihyun placates, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We’ll save up our tips and begin paying the debt down again.”

“It’s never ending, isn’t it, hyung?” Changkyun sighs. Kihyun squeezes his arm then walks into the kitchen to wash the dishes. 

Changkyun thinks about the semi-basement apartment where he was hidden away, forgotten in plain sight. The emptiness inside him that only attracts rage. An invisible system hellbent on chipping away his humanity until he disappears. Something hard lodges in his stomach. Screwing rich men out of an extra few hundred thousand won will never be enough. He doesn’t just want to eat their food or wear their designer clothes—he wants to live so far above the ground that no one will be able to touch him.

His phone pings with a message from an unknown number, but when he opens the text he feels a little thrill.

_Did you get home safely?_

_Yeah_ , he types in response. _Wasn’t expecting to hear from you._

_You made it kinda hard to lose your number._

Changkyun chuckles and begins to type out a smartass reply, then thinks better of it and settles on something more sincere: _Hope you have a safe flight in the morning._

_Thank you. Hope you have a good day too._

_Talk to you soon_ —he stares at the message, his thumb hovering, ready to send the text. What is he doing? He deletes the message and pushes his phone away.

There’s a certain vulnerability and sincerity about Hyunwoo that twists a knife into Changkyun’s stomach. He thinks back to the warmth radiating from Hyunwoo’s palm as it rested on his lower back; to the passion igniting in his eyes and the sound of his laugh. He just can’t let him go yet.

“I think Hyunwoo would be a perfect target for the plan, hyung.”

“You really think he could fall in love with you?” Kihyun sighs and comes to stand next to Changkyun, both of them staring out the window at the world below. “Be careful, Changkyun. Paying off our debt is one thing, but what you’re talking about—making this guy fall in love with you only to break his heart?” He shakes his head. “I hope the severance pay at the end of all this is worth it.”

Changkyun is left alone to stare at the glittering skyline. Kihyun sings quietly as he shuffles around the apartment, laying out their sleeping mats for the night. In a few hours the sun will rise, engulfing the city in flames. And a new day will begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!


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